From Above
by rosa suscipit
Summary: Severus Snape greives over the death of Lily. One-shot. True to canon.


_**AN: This is a little one-shot written about Snape's feelings a week after the death of Lily and James Potter. In this he refers to Lily as 'Lily Evans' purely because I don't believe he would ever be able to bring himself to refer to her as Potter, due to his hatred of James. I have a certain fondness for Snape, his love for Lily is perfect and the line 'Always' haunts me every time I read it. The title 'From Above' is taken from the song of the same name by Rae Morris, I like the song and for some reason it seemed appropriate. I hope you enjoy reading and any reviews would be really appreciated, thank you in advance.**_

From Above

'_**Always.' – Severus Snape.**_

**XXX**

'_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have Thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…' _

He hadn't meant for it to happen. Really, he hadn't. It was just dumb luck. That evil, black luck that seemed to have followed him from childhood. How was he supposed to guess who the Dark Lord would choose? How was he to _know_?

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

The gravestone was cold, it's only answer was the continuing silence where once had been her voice. Distantly he thought he could hear her. He bowed his head and listened, his heart beating double time in his throat as he strained his ears in desperate hope. It was gone. The soft, musical laughter he remembered as a boy of nine had faded into nothing. A single, glistening tear crept down one pallid cheek, he felt it tickle as it descended along his hooked nose. Absently he wiped it away. It was hard to believe that merely a week ago she had been alive. Bright, vibrant, beautiful. Her voice echoed through the years, he could see her smile in his head and it sent fresh waves of pain through his battered, aching heart.

"Forgive me…" He breathed, breathe steaming in the early morning fog. It was a cold November day, cold and absurdly frightening. He had tried. He had desperately tried to prevent this tragedy. He had bargained for her life, begging the Dark Lord from his knees. He had told Dumbledore, he had warned him of the impending disaster, but all his efforts had accumulated into nothing. "It's not my fault." But even to his own ears it sounded like the bitter lie it was. He was as much at fault as the man who had betrayed her…the man who had all but murdered her. He should have been angry at the Dark Lord for having actually pointed his wand at her, but he couldn't bring himself to hate a dead man. The other though…that other who had undone all of Dumbledore's protections, _he_ was easy to hate. His handsome, grinning face floated across the forefront of Snape's mind, bringing with it a hatred so huge it was almost uncontrollable. He sat there, on his knees before the huge marble headstone, his hands clutching at big clods of dirt. His eyes wide, blank and staring at the bright array of flowers. It wasn't the flowers he saw, nor the engraved names upon the stone; it was his face. His laughing, grinning face. The face of a murderer. The face of the man who had destroyed everything beautiful in the world.

A choked, desperate sob built up behind his locked jaw, he clamped his lips together, one filthy hand covering his mouth to prevent the sob from becoming a scream. He sat there, shivering in the cold morning as fog drifted around his body like silvery, grasping fingers. A wind tugged playfully at his greasy hair, it grabbed his cloak and tried to rip it free of his throat. Finally Severus took a deep, shuddering gasp of breath and let it out in a strangled sob. More tears pattered to the grass, he stared at the myriad of flowers and heard her soft, tinkling laughter echo in his mind like the pretty chiming of bells. He saw her smile at him, holding out her hand as she had done in school. Under one arm she had several books, some with leaves of parchment sticking out. Behind one ear, pinning her soft, auburn hair was a beautiful peacock feather quill.

'_Come on, Sev, we've got Transfiguration next and I don't want McGonagall to put me in detention in our first week.'_

"Lily…oh Lily…" More tears slid down his cheeks, unheeded. He gazed at the flowers, at the headstone with those engraved names. She would lie here, beside her husband, the idiot she had chosen to marry. She would lie there for eternity to rot along with so many others, others who probably didn't have the right to lick the soles of her shoes…

_(And you did?)_

The question came unbidden to his mind and he almost laughed outright, of course he didn't. She had known what he was even before he himself had. She had been everything to him, she had been his light, his connection to a world he had never known. She had given him a way out, a way to redeem himself and he had thrown it right back in her face. He had never blamed her for turning her back on him. She had stuck with him for as long as she could and finally she could take it no more. It was inevitable, he had known their friendship could never last but he knew, even at the age of nine, he knew that his love for her would last for eternity. "This should never…should never have…have happened…" He whispered, his breath coming out in stagnant gasps as tears continued to trace glittering lines down his cheeks.

The flowers seemed to come to life as the sun began to rise above the houses surrounding the quiet little graveyard. He watched as bursts of bright red, yellow, white, orange and blue all appeared from what had been muted grey. His breathing stopped in his throat as the largest bunch caught his eye, a great woven circle of pure white lily's. Their hearts were yellow, their leaves as green as summer grass. He stared at them for an unknown amount of time before he saw the little, neatly written note pinned to them.

'_You were my best friends. I'll miss you.'_

The werewolf. He knew it as instantly as he had known the moment Lily Evans had died. A sneer stretched his lips before abruptly evaporating again, he had no reason to blame Lupin. The man was many things but a traitor he wasn't and he had been close to Lily. Snape knew he would never forgive him for the time he had spent at school, hiding in loos at the sound of the four boys' laughter, but Lupin was not guilty of hurting Lily.

As he sat there, submerged inside his own head and memories, he wondered what her last thought had been. He supposed it was probably about her son, the little boy Snape had never seen nor did he have any desire to see. He didn't think he could handle seeing James Potter in the face of Lily's son. It would probably drive him mad. The boy would undoubtedly attend Hogwarts, he would be as much of a hero as his father was and the thought made his stomach twist. The child had done little more than cry in his crib, it had ultimately been Lily who had caused the final death of the Dark Lord. It had been her selfless sacrifice that had ended years of bleak terror.

'_Sev, don't cry. It's ok, I'll help you…'_

He choked as the voice of the only woman he had ever and would ever love filled his mind, she had always helped him. Slowly, with the jerky movements of a wounded spider, he climbed to his aching feet. He turned to take one last, lingering look at the marble headstone before silently wishing her farewell. When he had been pushed by Potter and his pals, when he had been hit in the back with some malignant spell it had been her hand that had helped him to his feet. It had been her voice defending him furiously. Always her…

"…Always…" He whispered and straightened his back before striding off into the shadow of the misty village church. "Always, Lily."

**XXXFINXXX**

'_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.'_


End file.
